


The Cattle of the Sun

by Fialleril



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M, Gen, Light-Hearted, Male-Female Friendship, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Tricksters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-20
Updated: 2011-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:51:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fialleril/pseuds/Fialleril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermes is a scoundrel, a trickster, and a thief, and Persephone would never want to change that. She is getting tired of the cows, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cattle of the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> References are made to a number of myths, but particularly the _Homeric Hymn to Hermes_. This is ridiculously schmoopy. Also, somewhat dependent on my conviction that Hades is every bit as much a trickster as Hermes, just quieter about it. Depending on your interpretation of the mythology, this might be borderline crack.

There is a herd of cattle wandering the banks of the Styx.

They pause, every now and then, to crop at the short stems of asphodel that trail up to the lip of the water. Their lowing is neither mournful nor bucolic. Mostly, it’s just loud.

Persephone stares at them. The lead cow is branded with a disk and five extending rays. Helios’, then. She sighs. Her first day, first _hour_ even, back in the Underworld, and already trouble.

“Hermes,” she says, turning to her brother and escort and hiding her laughter behind another sigh. He looks entirely too innocent. “Why is there a herd of cows chewing up my husband’s garden?”

Hermes beams at her. The pale river-light flashes on a chain of silver at his throat. Persephone could swear she’d been wearing it herself, only a moment before.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” he says breezily. “But he is the god of wealth, you know.” He grins cheekily at her. “Maybe he’s decided to expand his holdings.”

“Perhaps,” says a cool dark voice from the empty air beside them. A helmet appears, lifted away from a pale, dark-eyed face, and then Hades is watching Hermes with laughter in his eyes.

Hermes grins broadly. He’s wearing a circlet of emeralds now. Persephone squints at it; it looks familiar, but she can’t place it.

“I had been thinking of holding a feast,” Hades says, his eyes meeting hers and softening, crinkling at the corners with his smile.

Persephone can’t help it; she laughs. Her world is pale, beautiful, and fresh around her, the little tendrils of grasses and the white stars of asphodel quick in her blood. There is a new planting of narcissus a little further up the bank, and a wild riot of chamomile, mint, sage, and thyme a few yards inland. Hades has been busy. She hopes the cows won’t ruin everything.

Hermes wears a smile both sly and innocent. “It’s a good thing, then,” he says, smile only broadening, “that Helios has been so kind as to offer his cattle for the occasion.”

“Very generous of him indeed,” Hades says, his eyes twinkling as he scans the bag Hermes wears over one shoulder; the leather is clearly branded with the seal of Apollo. “I had no idea he cared.”

Persephone snorts. There’s no point in arguing with either of them when they get like this. And anyway, she doesn’t mind.

“We’ll have to be sure to invite him, then,” she says sweetly, then reaches over and bops her brother on the nose. He scowls, but can’t hold it, and his smile returns as though it had never left. She eyes him slyly, and his grin only widens.

“But first, Hermes, o great god of flocks and herds,” she declaims lavishly, “I charge you to _stop your damn cows from eating my garden_.”

Hermes bows gallantly, mockingly, at the waist, his caduceus held forth like a banner. “As you command, o iron queen!” he declares grandly, and flies off across the fields, his laughter following after him.

Hades turns and smiles at her, the secret smile that’s only hers, and proffers his arm. “Come,” he says, on the edge of laughter, “it seems we have a feast to prepare for.”

Persephone watches as one of the cows begins chomping at a pomegranate tree. Hermes is attempting to shoo it off, in between his laughter. She sighs fondly. “I really do hate cows.”


End file.
